Etc: Extreme Tragedy Coming
by Asteri0519
Summary: I am dangerous. I am possibly a monster. Everyone I love is either dead or will be dead. My cousin is on a mission to kill me. I am Percy Jackson. (AU) Still accepting OCs!
1. Introduction

**ETC: Extreme Tragedy Coming**

**Prologue pt.1**

_Somewhere unknown to mortals..._

"Sixty days. That is all I can guarantee you." A rich female voice echoed around the large chamber, seemingly changing tones every time the sound bounced off the marble floor and walls.

A fabric rustled. "It is more than enough, my lady. The boy will not be able to survive, no matter his... Bloodline." Another young female said, lingering on the word _bloodline_ as if the word carried another, particularly disgusting, meaning.

Though the writer could not see the first woman's face from his angle, he suspected that she was smiling. "Good. His existance must be wiped from this universe. By the Eighth of March this year, Perseus Jackson will be dead."

This much the young demigod son of Hermes gained before he dared to peek out from the column he was hiding behind, thus dissolving by the mere sight of the first deity, Chaos.

**A/N: Hey guys! This is my first piece of writing since, what, November? I'm so sorry. I had a major case of Writor's Block, combined with depression... Let's just put it at four syllables- That Was Real Bad.**

**And... I'm letting you know that 'Helen Tigress' story is being deleted and maybe rewritten. Sorry for that, too. But I gotta say, it was cringey. So out the window and into the question it goes.**

**A/N2: Any constructive critism and spelling checks are welcome. English isn't my first language, so... Yeah.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Etc: Extreme Tragedy Coming**

**Chapter 1: the teacher and me, two in the morning**

"Jackson!" I snap back to reality, annoyed at the voice that had called me back. "I told you, don't call me _Jackson_." I hiss.

The teacher recoils. I expected him to. "All right then, Al. Just because you're stronger than the rest doesn't mean you can wear something besides the uniform." Oh, great. A lecture. "Blue comforts me." I reply as calmly as possible.

_Something cool yet delightfully warm. The color blue... The first color I'd seen. _I growl under my breath, trying to keep my mind focused on the present.

The present, by the way, has a lecturing and me in the classroom at 2 in the morning. I sigh, and turn on the music to tune out his voice. I vaguely remember someone telling me about the importance of music... Someone whose name started with A. Or was it U? I'm not even sure that the memory is real and not a dream. Curse the ADHD.

"Are you even listening to me?" Damn.

_"Are you even listening to me, brat?" _Gah! I don't want that memory. Just- is there a way to remove flashbacks from my life entirely?

"All right. If you aren't listening to me, you can enjoy your detention." I raise my eyebrows. "Oh, really? What about the fact that me and Annabeth are the only ones that are maintaining high grades? You want to see that small list reduced to one?"

The teacher doesn't take it. Oh well, time for some crucial cards. Slowly, deliberately, I hold up the photo for him to see; then I amuse myself by watching the color of 's face change from white to red to purple.

It's a full minute after that when he regains control of his vocal chords. "I- that- it's not- m..." I roll my eyes as falls into REM sleep. You can see why he gained the nickname of - he tends to pass out(pass out, as in, sleep) whenever he's stressed.

**That's it for the end of this chapter! I know it's short, oof;;**

**A/N: I'm accepting OCs. Minor characters, mind you, but they have a role to play- I accept only one OC per person!**

**OC submit form**

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	3. Chapter 2: Flashback

**Etc: Extreme Tragedy Coming.**  
**Chapter 2- Annabeth Seraphina Chase**

Just then, the door slides open. And the girl sent from heaven steps in- Annabeth Seraphina Chase, wearing a set of blue-and-grey owl gloves.

_*Flashback*_

It was the night when I ran away, from my father, from the sick feeling in my guts, from the demolished house. I didn't have a destination- I just ran as far as my legs would carry me. My muscles burned and I was exhausted, but I forced myself to keep on going.

I actually felt free for once. Knowing that I didn't need to go back to the hellhole I once called home, the feeling was like staring at the gentle waves of the ocean. Suddenly it didn't matter that I was colorblind. Suddenly everything in my world was a miracle. I could go to school. I could be normal, find friends, and be happy.

It was great, until I couldn't move. I was stuck in a gray puddle of mud-like stuff, only a hundred times thicker. Cement. I struggled to pry myself free, to keep moving, to feel free again. The happiness inside of me slowly faded away, leaving nothing but despair behind.

I laid down on the cement. _Just let me die_, I prayed. _I don't want to live anymore. They'll just drag me back to hell_. I felt something cold touch me on the cheek. Then another. The white flurry of snow soon covered my cement-streaked face and hands, like a white cloth the dead wear at the funeral. (**AN: gods, this sounds so wrong**)

"Are you okay?" A girl's voice echoed distantly. "Hey, wake up! No offense, but the cement is not a place to die." She sounded genuinely worried, no one had ever said something to me in that tone. I muttered something about looking okay, and raised my head a little.

"Here, grab my hand. I'll pull you out!" She offered her hand to me, not seeming to care about her gloves getting dirty. The gloves were made with fine wool, a brilliant shade of... Something that was both cool and warm at the same time. A gray owl gazed up at me- I swear it glared at me disapprovingly- and suddenly, I could recognize the color of the gloves.

That was the day I first saw the color blue.

*_Flashback End*_

"Oh my gods!" Annabeth screams. Did my flashback only last for half a second? It felt like years. Annabeth scrambles around so fast that I get a major headache. "Do you think he's okay? He's not waking up! Should we call 911?" She spews a bunch of questions forward. Yeowch, she's a rapid-fire machine. Didn't she used to be jealous of someone who always did that? Ra- Ray? Reyna? Random? Gah.

I shake my head to clear it. "He's just asleep. You know he does that when he's stressed. And I don't think calling a hospital is the best idea someone has ever had, because the government doesn't give a s*** about us." I say slowly, my words tinged with bitterness on the last few words.

It's true. No one cares about us percengers- in fact, the outside world doesn't know that percengers still exist.

But what's a percenger? Well, you see... About two decades ago, some crazy scientist named Daedalus had this crazy idea of artificially manipulating a cell's DNA, so that when the baby was born, he/she would be all perfect and polite and whatnot. It seemed like a perfect theory. And it worked, too. So Daedalus's lab, or 'workshop' as he liked to call it, thrived and grew.

Until the infants developed some serious issues. It all started when a two-year-old baby boy accidentally maimed his mother by summoning a ball of fire that gave her body three-degree-burns. Then a young girl choked her cousin to death with weeds. Some kids could make objects come alive. The government, realizing chaos had come over the nation, quickly took action.

Daedalus's lab was burned down. He committed suicide after he saw what his projects had become. The children were shipped off to an abandoned building, and were taught to control their powers. But the citizens were told that all freaky' babies had been killed or had died of natural causes.

Did you perhaps read an article about mothers with superhuman strength, or a man who lifted a school bus to save a little boy? Well, their 'power percentage' is a little higher than a normal person's- giving them powers so weak(at least, by our standards) that they can be passed off as instincts or maternal strength.

Power percentage advancers, or percengers for short. That's our official title- the most the president has ever done for our 'species'. The stronger we are, the higher our percentages are- and higher the risk of an early death from generic diseases, weird monsters, and the sky. I'm not even joking. Once, there was a boy whose percentage was 93%. He got struck by lightening when he was fifteen.

Since then, we're all more careful about what we do with our powers.

"Okay," Annabeth says. "But what should we do?"

I think for a moment. Since the outside world is not an option, and the infirmary is three buildings away, that leaves only one solid option.

Two minutes later, Mr. Fin is sputtering from the cold water. "Gah! What-" He coughs. "You dozed off, sir." I say. _And I would have let you sleep if it weren't for Annabeth,_ I silently add.

"Here! I got it from a nearby bathroom." Annabeth holds out a wad of paper towels. "Thank you, Annabeth." Mr. Sleepyhead says, genuinely touched. I make gagging motions behind his back. Honestly, I don't know how Annabeth deals with it.

Annabeth is anxious to start the lesson. I roll my eyes, amused and a little bit annoyed. Really, I could give her an entire library and she'd be done by lunchtime. Lunchtime being noon.

"So! Yet another lesson on how to control your powers." Mr. Fin draws a human on the blackboard. "It's like dealing with a cold. Listen." I'm briefly interested. I mean, how does a _cold_ relate to _powers_?

"If you have a stomachache, what do you do?" Mr. Fin asks. "Um... Keep your body warm. And take the pills, and then get some rest." Annabeth answers. I chuckle slightly at her seriousness.

Mr. Fin shrugs. "Half right." Annabeth looks crestfallen. "The real thing is to locate where the germs are. Am I right?" Annabeth nods. "When you locate them, place your hand over the spot. The thing here is to ask the germs to leave _nicely_. Like this." I scoff. Like the germs are going to hear that. Mr. Fin takes a deep breath.

"Now, germs-who-are-eating-away-in-my-stomach, leave before I SHOVE A DOSE OF PENNISULIN DOWN YOUR GERMY THROATS!" He yells. Me and Annabeth simultaneously jump in our seats, having not expected such a racket.

"Class dismissed." Mr. Fin beams at us.

**AN: Sorry for not uploading. But when the family trip, another school year(It started at 3/4), and a case of writer's block all mashes together, it's hard to focus on this damn thing...**

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Until next time, bye guys!


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